Date: Sat, 09 Feb 2002 07:47:59 -0700
From: Clone Buggs <cqsqfq@hotmail.com>
Subject: Shifting Gear Chapter 5

Chapter 5

	Over eggs, bacon and about a gallon of steaming black coffee, I
recorded the latest crop of numbers my beeper had collected.  I was sitting
in the local cowpoke diner, having left Hal and Doris alone.  Hal had
decided to call in and take a day off so he could get to know Doris' ins
and outs better.  I had a feeling Doris was going to get a lot of ins
today, and was probably going to be wrung out by nightfall.  They had
invited me back in the evening, but I explained I had to move on after I
finished the repair job at the mine headquarters.  I was due in Safford as
soon as possible to fix a problem for another customer.
	I finished my last cup of coffee and headed up to pay for my
breakfast.  A few of the cowpokes watched me go, as they would any stranger
in town.  As I walked down the row of grizzled men sitting at the counter
on swivel stools, I over heard one say to another; "How the hell should I
know where she is Clem?  I been out in the brush same as you."
	Then Clem whined; "I know it Dick.  But if I ever get my hands on
that woman I'll choke `er naik."
	To which Dick answered; "Aw Clem, you leave that lil' filly be.
Jes thank yer lucky stars she cain't get `er hands on yer pecker no more."
	To which Clem answered; "I do Dick.  She plum nearly wore it off to
a nubbin; but I need ta get even with that bitch."
	"Wall," said Dick.  "She might have a thing or two ta say `bout
that."
	I dropped a dime on Hal's number, but got his machine.  I told them
ol' Clem was sniffing around, and to treat him carefully, because he seemed
to want a piece of Doris' ass, and not in a good way.  Doris picked up the
phone, slightly out of breath.  "Gerry, honey will you do me a big ol'
favor?"
	"What's that Doris?"
	"Go punch that son of a bitch in the nose for me."
	"Now Doris, I'm not going to do it.  As much as he deserves it,
he's sitting with a bunch of his friends right now, and they'd make dog
meat out of my ass."
	"They surly would honey."  She paused, thinking.  "Then how about
letting the air out of his tires?  He drives a beat up ol' Ford Pickup that
used to be green."
	"Doris, from where I'm sitting there's at least seven vehicles that
match that description in the lot, and I can't even see the back side of
the building."
	"Oh all right.  I'll let you off the hook this time, but if I ever
get that cowmonkey alone, I'll wring his neck."  I laughed, and Heard Hal
tell her to get off the phone, or he was going to shoot his load in the
air.  "Gotta go honey, Hal's in a bind, and needs my expertise."
	"Take care, I call you when I'm back this way."
	"You better love."  I stopped the call and headed for the mine
Headquarters.

	I'd finished my repair work by lunchtime, so I grabbed a quick bite
at a little Mexican place that made good tamales, and headed back up eighty
to ten where I headed East to pick up one ninety-one to Safford.
	By the time I got to Tombstone, I had eliminated the calls that
were too far off my path to be worth anything to me after I checked in at
my next job.  One or two were from the prefix area Safford occupied, so I
decided to give them a buzz.
	The first caller picked up on the second ring. "Howdy.  What kin I
do fer ye."  He sounded like Festus on Gunsmoke.
	"I'm returning a beeper message I got sometime last night."
	"Oh yeass.  I got your number out of a magazine I picked up down in
Agua Prieta."
	"That right?  Listen, I run so many ads, what did this one say?"  I
heard him rustle through some paper.
	"Yeass, I got it righcheer.  Le' me fin' my glasses.  O.K."  He
cleared his throat. "Says here You got a tar hole needs ta be plugged, and
a water well that needs ta be drained."
	"Oh yeah, I remember that ad.  So what did you have in mind ol'
timer?"
	"Ol' timer is it.  You listen here young feller.  I got me a piece
o' pork a ol' bull'd be proud of.  You like to try it sometime?"
	"Does it still get hard pops?"
	"Don't never get soft sonny.  I got me one o' them steel boners
installed a few years back.  Seems like the older I get, the more I like to
fuck with it.  Don't shoot too good no more, but I can shore throw a hot
fuck inta yer butt fer an hour."
	"So how old are you pop?"
	"What's it to ya?"
	"Well if you want me to come over, you have to tell me.  I'm not
promising I will, mind you, but I might."
	"Well dad gummit!"
	"Is that what you're into?"
	"What?"
	"Gumming it?"
	"Sheeit you little peckerwood!"  He hung up and I stopped the call.
The second number didn't answer until after the eighth ring.  I was on the
verge of stopping the call when a very masculine voice answered.
	"Yeah?"  With one word, I knew this guy had something going for
him.  I wondered briefly if I was turned on by hearing a masculine voice in
my ear.
	"You paged me sometime last night?"
	"Damn right I did.  What took you so fucking long to get back to
me?"
	"Oooh.  Rough stuff eh?"
	"Where's yer fuckin' ass at right now."
	"Whoa... wait a sec.  What scene are you into man?"
	"Listen fuckface!  I want to know where you're at this minute, or
I'm gonna hang this fuckin' phone right up.  You understand me?"
	I thought about it for a moment.  "I guess you better start hanging
buddy `cause you've struck out here."
	"Aw wait a minute."  His gruffness changed to a whine.  "Don't hang
up please.  I was just answering your ad like I thought you wanted to hear
it."
	"Which ad was that?"
	"You know, the one about leather dudes needed for discipline and
bondage scene.  Harley rider preferred."  This didn't sound like an ad John
would have placed.
	"You sure you got the right ad?"
	"Well, there's a big cum stain on the magazine, maybe I read it
wrong."
	"I think you might have, I'm not into any major pain."
	"Thank god, neither am I."
	"Then why would you call a number like that?"
	"Well, to tell the truth, I'm so fucking horny, I'm ready to try
any scene to get my dick into another man.  I figured if it was what turned
you on, I'd get you tied down good, and fuck you till the cows come home."
He took a deep breath.  "Listen mister.  Can you just give me a chance?
I'm stuck in this god forsaken backwater with no sexual outlet except my
hand, and they're so rough from the work I do that it ain't no fun
anymore."
	"What kind of work do you do?"
	"I'm an archaeologist.  I do a lot of digging in the dirt and shit
like that."
	"Sounds interesting.  You got a place?"
	"I got my tent, but I'm willing to drive to you?"
	"Maybe you should.  I'm staying at a motel in Safford tonight.  You
could come meet me for dinner and maybe we could manage something later in
my room."
	"Hot damn!  What time?"
	"I've got to check into my local job today before closing time, but
I don't plan on doing any work today unless it's something simple to fix."
	"What do you do?"  I told him briefly, and went back to our plans.
	"Say, do you need to get cleaned up?"
	"Well, I could use a shower.  I haven't had one since Saturday.
Smell pretty ripe about now."
	"I'll tell you what, I'll let you check into my room for me at my
company's expense, if you wait for me to get there before you shower.  I
sometimes get off on a man's smell especially if he's a hard worker like
you."
	"Well, the stench is strong enough to keep the flies off."
	"Just like I like `em."  I gave him details about the motel, and
told him I'd call ahead to let them know to expect him.
	"That's just great.  By the way, what's your name?"  I told him and
waited a split second.  "Oh yeah, I'm Eddy Hughs.  I'm with the University
in Tucson, when I'm not in the field."  I asked him if he knew Russell.
	"Oh yeah.  Nice guy, some kid did him in with a sexual harassment
charge."
	"That's right, but he's doing O.K.  I wouldn't worry about him.
Say, you know the university pretty well?"
	"I guess so, why?"
	"Just wondering if that toilet in the basement of the lab building
still has the gloryholes?"
	"Last time I looked in on it, it did.  Man there's a cocksucker
there that could suck the chrome off a doorknob.  I dream about him
sometimes.  I wish I knew who it was."
	"Yeah, I think about him too."
	"You been to the university?"
	"No...I know about it from meeting the guy somewhere else.  He told
me about the gloryholes in the toilet.
	"Well he's one fine cocksucker.  I think he's blown nearly every
professor and grad student at the school."
	"That's interesting.  He thinks he has too, but he say's they all
talk a straight game."
	"You got to man.  They are merciless when the catch some poor
sucker out."
	"Too bad."  I told him I'd be at the motel around five, and hoped
he'd be in the room stripped of everything but his jock strap if that was
what he was wearing, and stretched out on the bed waiting for me.  He
promised, and I stopped the call.  I phoned the motel, and identified
myself and told them I'd be entertaining a guest for dinner that evening,
but that he needed to get cleaned up first.  They understood I'd offered
the use of my room, and since I had spent many a lonely night with them,
they said they would put extra towels in the room for my guest.
	I looked at my watch and saw I had a little over an hour to check
in at the job site, and get to the motel.  I floored the gas, and hit
eighty.  I'd just make it.
	Safford is a dull little town where the best food is a Mexican Cafe
a block off main street.  It isn't much to look at inside, but the old lady
that cooks there knows her moles, and I never pass the place up if I'm in
town.  I called her next, and told her to do a real turkey mole for me and
a friend.  She liked me, and always came to the table to hear me praise her
cooking.  She hardly spoke, and her mouth was full of snag teeth, her face
wrinkled like a dried lizard's belly from the sun, but she cooked like an
angel.
	The motel was at the far Western end of town, and my job was at the
far Eastern end.  I decided to call the job instead of stopping in.  I told
them I was running late from the Bisbee mine, and would see them first
thing in the morning.  They liked that, because it allowed them to leave a
half hour early.
	At the motel, I stopped in the office to pick up my key, and to ask
if my guest had arrived.  The young blond woman behind the counter smiled
at me and asked if he was married.
	"Why?"
	"Cause he's some kinda hunk honey."
	"Well, he is, married that is, but I'm not.  You want to get
together with me later?"
	"Oh honey you know I would, but my ol' man'd beat me senseless if
he was to catch me runnin' `round on him again."
	"That's O.K. Sandra.  I know you think I'm ugly as sin.  You don't
have to make excuses."  I turned and went out the door.  She was sputtering
and denying she thought me ugly.  But her assessment of Eddy being a hunk
was making my dick hard.
	I got what I needed out of my trunk, and bounded up the stairs two
at a time.  My room as always, was at the back of the motel, away from the
traffic noise.  There were also fewer patrons back there, and it was as
private as possible given the situation.  I slipped my key into the door,
and turned the knob.  The room was dim, with the curtains drawn, and the
low hum of the air conditioner under the big bay window was the only sound
I could hear.  I stepped in and before I closed the door, the setting sun's
rays illuminated the most magnificent male body I'd seen in ages, sleeping
soundly on my bed.
	He was entirely naked except for a stained and down right
disgusting jock strap.  I chuckled to myself, I'd never imagined he
actually wore one of the things.  I examined the bulge in it's pocket, and
guessed it would unwind to a healthy eight or nine inches.  I began to
undress quietly, trying not to awaken him.  I wanted to see how long I
could have my way before he woke up and wanted to get into the act.
	Naked, I carefully leaned across the foot of the bed, and gently
licked his toes.  They smelled wonderful, and tasted salty from his dirty
sweat socks I could see piled on top of his boots in the corner.  He
shifted a little, and presented me with an ankle.  I licked it clean, then
proceeded up his calf which was hairless as a swimmer's body.  The light
was so dim, I couldn't tell if his cock was nestled in a bush or not.  His
chest was completely bereft of hair.  I could see one of his underarms
thrown up over his head was also naked of hair.  He either was hairless, or
shaved himself completely for some reason.
	His face was covered by his massive arm, which was well muscled and
tan as a berry, as was the rest of his body.  He didn't seem to have a tan
line anywhere on him.  I sniffed heavily at his crotch, but didn't touch
it.  I knew if I did, he'd wake up.  My own hardness was leaking drool down
my leg and onto the carpet.  I found a nipple, and circled it gently with
my tongue, reveling in the salty taste and the feel of it responding
stiffly.
	I moved on to his exposed armpit, and inhaled deeply the stale
aroma of his sweat.  My tongue softly played into the hollow, and out of
the corner of my eye, I saw his cock begin to swell.  I watched it expand
the material until the material could contain it no longer.  The ruddy head
was the first to appear, oozing clear glistening moisture, as it glided
toward me like a snake.  When it was fully extended, I licked his armpit
again, and his cock convulsed expelling a gob of thicker, milky ooze.  His
balls must be full to capacity.
	I sat on the edge of the bed, my cock pointing at the ceiling, and
leaned over to lick his face.  He had a dirt smudge on his cheek that
tasted of salt and a trace of metallic on my tongue.  He turned his lips
toward me, and I let them slide under my probing tongue.  He sighed in his
sleep, and opened his full lips slightly, and I tasted his mouth, and
examined his teeth carefully.  I left his mouth and grazed over his
stubbled chin.  The whiskers prickled my tongue, and my cock convulsed at
the eroticism of their texture.  I left a slimy trail down his muscular
torso, and glided across his perfect washboard abs to examine the hollow of
his belly button.  He stirred again, and hunched his hips a little, forcing
most of his erection out of his jock strap.  His piss slit was massive, and
it slowly opened as I watched it, and another thick milky gob was spit onto
his stomach.
	I carefully licked the gobs of cum from his belly, and gently ran a
trail of saliva the length of his turgid cock.  He humped his hips again,
and I couldn't resist letting my tongue examine his still covered balls.
The ribbed material was stained and dirty where it clung to the two massive
nuts in their double sack.  I breathed deeply, the scent of his sweaty
working nuts, and sucked them through the cloth.  He placed one of his
massive callused hands on the back of my head, and pushed my whole face
into his reeking nutsack.  My tongue found its way under the edge of the
material, and I heard him gasp.  My lover for the evening was awake at
last.
	I snaked my tongue under the edge of his jockstrap, and sucked one
of his massive balls into my mouth. He moaned, and humped my face again.
With his nut firmly in my mouth, giving up its salty essence to my taste
buds, I ran my fingers over his smooth chest, and found a tit.  I clamped
onto it with my thumb and forefinger.  I heard him gasp.  His massive
dickhead contracted and spat another thick gooey gob of cum.  I helped
myself to his sticky nectar, and wondered how long it had been since he'd
actually ejaculated.  The way he was oozing cum out of his piss lips, it
could have been months.
	I pulled his jock strap off his body, and in the dim light of the
room, could see him smiling sleepily at me.  I straddled his legs and
extended myself along his body so our cocks were laying next to each other.
I took his face in my hands, and kissed him deeply, tonguing every part of
his mouth I could reach.  He wasted no time in returning my fervor.
	My tongue traveled to his right ear, and spent a little time
cleaning his outer and inner ear.  Before I was finished, and ready to do
his left, he was writhing and humping under me while his whole body
shivered.  This man was very needy and ready for anything.
	Sliding down his torso I made a stop at his nibs where I sucked and
chewed on them thoroughly, until he had arched his back and was thrusting
his cock hard into the cleft between my legs.  I pushed myself upright, and
let his good nine inches ride up and down my ass crack.  I reached back and
pulled my crack open with both hands, and felt his dick home in on my hole.
He was seriously trying to shove it into me without benefit of latex or
lube.  I put a hand on his chest, and rolled off him.
	It took me less than a minute to get him hatted with a rubber, and
to squeeze a large glob of lube jelly into my hand.  I put a gob of it on
my hole, and used the rest in my hand to slather his rock hard shank.  I
climbed back on board, and raised myself up until I could feel the massive
tool in position to do its work.  The pressure on my hole increased as I
relaxed my leg muscles, and began to lower myself onto his boner.  There
was a little soreness, mostly because of my encounters of the previous four
nights, and I gritted my teeth and sunk all the way down on his pole.
	"Holy Toledo!"  Eddy sucked in his breath as I hit bottom, and
grabbed my hips.  "It's been so fucking long since I've had my dick in
another guy I think I'm gonna blow right now."
	"Just take it easy.  Relax, let things settle down until the
feeling goes away."  I supported myself with my hands cupping his breasts.
The muscles under my hands were rippling and moving.  I could also feel his
huge bone flexing in my butthole.
	"It feels so fucking good, I don't think I can hold off."  He
suddenly reached for my tits and gripped them both with his fists.  His
cock pulled out of me about half way, and slammed back inside like a
missile where it exploded.  It must have been carrying a multiple payload,
because he repeated the action several more times, and I could feel the
heat of his steaming spooge scorching my guts.
	"I'm sorry man," he was shivering under me.  "I don't usually go
off so quickly.  It's just that..."
	"Don't worry about it Ed.  If you can't keep it up, we'll give it a
rest and try again later."
	"No buddy, I want to plow you now.  Let me change condoms and try
again.  I slid off his only slightly softened dick, and watched him peel
off the well filled rubber.  I went to the bathroom, and wet a wash cloth.
I wiped his dick down, and he rolled another rubber over his hardening
shaft.  I laid down on the edge of the bed on my back, and raised my legs
into the air.  He wasted no time replanting his monster tool in my already
lubed hole, and sinking it to the hilt.  He raised my feet onto his
shoulders, and rolled me up onto mine, until his dick was pointing straight
down into my butt.  With his feet firmly planted on the floor, he began to
fuck me like it was going out of style.
	"Ooh Eddy baby, you fuck like an angel.  Pound my ass good."
	"You like it this way?"
	"Ooh yess.  Slide that porker home.  Cum in my ass again."  He had
an incredible technique, sliding into me from a new direction each time he
pulled out and reentered my butthole.  He was gripping and squeezing my
tits until I was writhing under him in ecstasy.  The fuck had been going on
for at least twenty minutes, when he began to breathe heavy.  I reached
under my butt, and could feel his balls tightening up to his shaft.  He was
going to blow another wad in me shortly.  I used my hand to scoop a glob of
slime and lube from the crack of my ass where his giant cock had deposited
it, and slathered my aching dick with it.  I began pumping my cock to his
fuck rhythm. Goo began oozing from my slick cock, and my nuts tightened up
to my shaft as well.
	"Eddy baby, I'm going to shoot my load."
	"Yeah, shoot it for me.  Make me cum when you shoot."  I jerked my
dick a stroke or two, and jism erupted like a fire hose across my chest,
some landing in my mouth.  He stroked into me faster and faster until I
felt him stiffen and flex his cock.  The sensation of his cum flowing into
the rubber he wore, was wonderful.  His heavy breathing slowly returned to
normal, and he relaxed, and laid his torso across my cum slicked chest and
kissed me.  I wiggled a little under him, feeling his cock shift in me as
it shrank.  Gradually it plopped out of my ass and I felt an ooze of lube
follow it.
	"Ooo, I'm leaking."  I tried to turn onto my side to keep it off
the bed, but Ed pushed my legs apart, and up over my head.  Before I knew
it, he had his tongue buried in my hole sucking hard to get all the slime
and spooge out of me he could.
	We laid together on the bed, and nuzzled each other for a while.
Finally, I could hear his stomach growling, and I know mine thought my
throat had been cut, so I suggested we get cleaned up and head out for some
food.
	I sat on the pot, draining the juices out of my butt his screwing
had caused me to secrete, while Ed showered.  I handed him a towel when he
finished, and stepped into the stall to take mine.
	"So what's your story Ed?"
	"What do you mean?"
	"I just like to get to know a little about the guys I play with,
makes it more interesting."
	"Well, I told you what I do for a living.  Kinda."
	"What do you mean kinda?"
	"Well I have a little business on the side.  I work on
archaeological digs for the university.  What I do, is try to determine as
cheaply as possible if a particular site is important enough to warrant a
full scale dig for information."
	"Aren't they all important?"
	"Of course, but there literally hundreds and thousands of ancient
sites in the state of Arizona, not to mention New Mexico, Northern Old
Mexico, Southern Colorado, Utah and Eastern Nevada.  It's not possible to
do a full scale dig of every site.  What I do is eliminate the less
important sites and specify the really important ones."
	"But you work alone?"
	"Most of the time, occasionally, I'll have a grad student or two
helping, but mostly I prefer working alone."
	"Why is that?"  I soaped my cock and balls, and ran the soapy
washcloth up and down my ass crack.
	"My side business.  I occasionally discover a nice pot, or some
interesting object, that has no real value in the bigger picture of
Southwest Archaeology.  I have a buyer who takes these things off my hands,
and I make a decent living, and the objects are cared for by the end
purchaser."
	"Who does your buyer sell them to?"
	"Private collectors, but more frequently, museums interested in
expanding their collections of Southwestern ethnographic artifacts."
	"I see.  Isn't all that illegal?"  I finished soaping my body, and
let the cool water rinse the suds off me.
	"Of course, but it's done all the time.  The stories I could tell
about the important sites that have been bulldozed for a few pots and
arrowheads.  At least, I'm trying to protect the important stuff.  It's
like this; the car you drive is one in how many thousand?"
	"I wouldn't know, but a lot I'm sure."
	"Well, all those similar cars, red ones, green ones, White ones,
whatever, are essentially identical with minor variations right?"
	"I suppose so."
	"But what about the prototype of your car?  Much more important to
preserve the prototype, and maybe the sub prototypes of each of the slight
variations, but beyond that, there is no real reason to try to keep every
example manufactured.  On the other hand, if the car becomes a classic
example, then private owners will foot the bill for restoring them and
keeping them from harm so the world will always have knowledge of your car.
You see how it works?"
	"I understand what you're saying, but aren't all your Indian pots
unique and hand made?"
	"They are, which is what makes them valuable to museums and
collectors, but archaeologically speaking, when the form is identified and
cataloged, and sufficient examples are socked away in study and display
collections, there is little need to keep stockpiling further examples."
We were dressing while we talked, me in jeans, t shirt and Western boots.
Ed in cutoffs and lace up boots and a weathered sunstruck University sweat
shirt, with the arms cut off at the shoulders.
	We rode to the cafe in his Jeep Wrangler, with nothing but the much
scarred roll bars over our heads.  He drove like he was still in the
desert, whipping around a corner and down an alley I didn't know was there.
He slid to a dust raising stop in the gravel behind the cafe.  I couldn't
remember telling him where I wanted to eat but when he rolled out of the
driver's seat, and scooped up his cel phone he was smiling.
	I joined him on the ground, and he jerked his head at the back door
of the kitchen for the cafe.  "Moma Ochoa is one of my favorite people in
Safford."
	"Mine too actually, until I met you."  He grinned at me, and fished
a bag of something out of the back of the Jeep.
	"She makes the best mole you'll ever eat."  The bag looked like it
contained several small cactus buds.  He held it up for me to examine.
"Peyote buttons for moma.  She gets off on it, so I bring her a button or
two when ever I find it growing."  He strode across the gravel yard, and
kicked the screen door open.  I followed him, and entered the cafe's
kitchen for the first time in the two years I'd been eating there.
	Moma Ochoa was laughing out loud as Ed teased her with the bag
hidden behind his back.  It was obvious she knew what he had for her, but
she liked the game he made of the giving.  She saw me standing there in the
doorway watching the two of them.  Her tiny black eyes jumped from me to Ed
and back again.  He laughter was suddenly louder.  She slapped him hard on
a big muscular biceps with her tiny wrinkled hand.
	"Maricon!"  She cackled at the two of us.
	"Si mama. Dos maricones."  Ed laughed with her.  Their humor was
infectious, and I found myself grinning right along.  She pulled his ear
down to her mouth, and I heard her whisper a stream of Spanish that was way
over my head.  He grinned, and straightened up and held his two hands, one
still holding the bag of Peyote, apart about twelve inches.
	"Aye mi culo!"  She grabbed the bag of Peyote buttons, and dodged
behind a table cackling like a chicken.
	"Hey mama, Mole!  Grande Mole! por dos Maricones!"  She peeked out
at us, and used the same shooing motions with her hands the porn video
camera man had used to shoo away street vendors in Russell's Mexican video.
I felt a wave of deja vu sweep over me.
	Ed led the way through the swinging door into the dining room.
There were a few other people eating, and all of them stopped to watch us
take a table near the kitchen.  Maria, Moma's youngest daughter brought us
each a tall glass of beer.  I'd never been served a beer there before.
	"Did they get a liquor license?"  I sipped the cold suds, and
licked my lips.
	"No.  This is special for us.  Maybe the little bag I brought her.
Quien Sabe, who knows."  The door to the kitchen swung open, and Moma
brought out a huge Mexican platter heaped with large pieces of turkey
drenched in her incomparable mole sauce.  The rich aromas of chilies,
roasted pumpkin seeds and chocolate flooded my senses and my saliva began
to flow.  Next she brought a covered dish with tortillas at least eighteen
inches across, and paper thin.  A bowl of various pickled chili peppers
with pieces of carrot and onion as well was set on the table.  Slices of
perfect Avocado arranged on a plate, and sprinkled with pungent lime juice
completed the meal.  It was a feast for the senses, and we ate.
	Moma Ochoa had out done herself.  The meal was beyond all my
expectations, and every time the beer was drained from a glass, it was
refilled. The other customers gazed at the treatment we were receiving and
wondered who we were to deserve such devotion from the flinty old woman in
the kitchen.  I didn't think they would guess one of us was her drug
connection.
	We were both about to pop from over eating, but between us finished
every last scrap of mole.  Ed finished his meal by downing several
scorching hot chili peppers.  He tried to get me to follow his example, but
I couldn't hold another bite.
	We tried to pay for the meal, but our money was refused by Maria,
and when we finally exited back through the kitchen, moma Ochoa was blissed
out on Peyote in the corner.  Another daughter was doing the cooking now.
Ed and I each gave moma a kiss on the forehead in thanks, and left her to
her visions.
	Back in the motel room, Ed and I talked and cuddled into the early
hours of the morning.  When some of the food had digested, we played around
a little bit, sucking and fucking each other once more before drifting off
into sleep.
	At five thirty, the alarm went off next to the bed, and Ed leaped
up and slammed it with his callused hand.  I stirred and opened one tired
eye.
	"Sorry bud," he said.  "I got to get rollin' It's too fucking hot
to work after eleven A.M.  I try to get in a good day's work early, and
spend the rest of the day catching the rays."
	"Well," I mumbled.  "That explains the lack of tan lines."
	"Yeah.  Nobody around to bother covering up for."  When he got out
of the shower, and was dressing in the same outfit he'd worn to the
restaurant, he leaned over and kissed me.  I still had four hours of sleep
coming to me and wasn't about to give it up.
	"Hey babe, I've been thinking.  I've got to be in Tucson in a week
for a couple a days if you can arrange to be there too, maybe we could get
it on again."
	"Sounds great.  I've got your number.  I'll call at a more
reasonable hour and work out the details."
	"Good enough.  I'll wait for you to call.  He headed for the door.
My eyes were already sealed shut against the light I knew would pour into
the darkened room from the rising sun.  Ed stopped in the doorframe,
blocking most of the light with his muscular body and I opened my eyes for
a final look at him.
	"Hey you," he said.  "Nice fuck."  I smiled and he stepped out and
closed the door behind him leaving me to dream of his massive cock sliding
in and out of my insatiable hole.